Mo Mhúirnín Bán
by Stretch1
Summary: A reality check, what life was really like for children of New York. Seen through the eyes of the newsgirls and boys of the city.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, Disney, or…well….I don't even own what Im wearing. Like my Pjs? My mommy bought them for me…but Ill let you have them for rights to the movie…No? FINE! 

~*~*~*~

As a resounding crack came from the bunk beside her, Stretch opened   
her bloodshot eyes only to see Snaps give her a sheepish face,   
quietly apologizing as she finished popping her last knuckle.   
Brushing a greasy, dirty blonde strand off her forehead, the young   
newsgirl stared up at the ceiling above her and cleared her mind.   
Well, attempted to anyway. Hearing several coughs a few bunks down   
mixed in with the snoring and sound of squeaking springs as one of   
the girls tossed and turned, Stretch sighed and opened her eyes once   
more. Comforting as it was to have these girls as company, sometimes   
each and everyone one of them longed to be in a room of their own,   
with an actual blanket and windows that kept the cold out during the   
winter, and brought the breeze in during the summer.   
  
"Shut the hell up," came the familiar voice of the red head three   
bunks down. Jade threw a spare shirt towards Snaps before rolling   
over in an attempt to fall back to sleep.   
  
"I can't sleep," Snaps whispered, mostly to herself than anyone   
else. Stretch knew this feeling, they all did. The feeling of   
complete exhaustion yet the inability to relieve it from sleep. It   
was rare when any of the newsgirls got more than an hour of slumber   
without waking up from a nightmare or sheer pain caused by illness   
or the physical stress they were under daily. Stretch knew for a   
fact at least half the bunkroom was awake, and no matter how much   
they wanted to blame Snaps's noisy habit for their sleepless nights,   
it was simply the lives they led that caused insomnia. Whether they   
were too wound up from the mental anguish they had succumbed to   
years before, or the shame that haunted them from the day's   
misdeeds, they simply tossed and turned, desperately wishing for   
slumber to take away the pain, if only temporarily.  
  
Closing her eyes once more, the tall newsgirl cleared her mind yet   
again and slowly drifted to sleep, only to be awakened by the sound   
of the lodging house owner, Bridget Donovan, banging the walls of   
the hallway with a broom on her way to get up the girls. Kind, yet   
with a strict, no bullshit persona, Mrs. Donovan treated each of the   
girls as if they were her own, both comforting and reprimanding them   
daily.   
  
"Up! Get up! Come on, you don't have all day. DON'T GIVE ME THAT   
LOOK, GIN, I know how to hurt you! Don't test me, Zip. Up. Yes, now,   
Beauti. No, you can't have another five minutes. I said get UP!" she   
yelled, girls mumbling and moaning their way from their beds to the   
bathroom. So began the day, starting with Solo and Firecracker   
fighting over a bathroom stall, Fantasy clambering for mirror space,   
and Sage nearly toppling over Sneaks, who, as it seems, had fallen   
back to sleep on the floor of the bathroom.   
  
"That's desperate," Hope laughed slightly, toothbrush in mouth and   
she kicked Sneaks awake. As Raven helped the fatigued girl to her   
feet to finish getting ready for the day ahead, the rest couldn't   
help but sympathize for her, feeling her pain completely as they   
rubbed their tired eyes, urging them to last through the day. No one   
could spare the money for a day off. That luxury was lost on them.   
  
As several of the girls wrapped cloth around their chest, hiding   
their breasts as a defense mechanism, the girls that needed money   
strapped on a corset, flaunted their goods any way they could.   
Dressing as a boy was one way the newsgirls of New York kept their   
dignity for a day, simply selling instead of being groped and   
fondled. Yet, the sight of a poorly dressed girl selling papers   
instead of herself never encouraged many customers. So, when the   
days where bad the girls would dress in skirts and thin blouses,   
showing their curves in order to gain a few extra dollars from the   
perverts of the city. That was life, and if you were a newsgirl, you   
had to be willing to show off more than headlines.   
  
Suddenly, a sharp scream resonated off the walls, piercing the ears   
of all near the bathroom stall it originated. As several of the   
girls clambered to the stall to see what was wrong, Petite burst out   
of it, screaming "IM DYING" in a panicky and distraught whimper. As   
several of the older girls smiled, knowing exactly was the younger   
one was going through, the smaller ones were pushed outside to get   
an early start on selling. Slowly talking the girl down, Floaty   
explained exactly what was going on while Sage told her what she had   
to do for the next few days and Brink ran around to find spare   
pieces of cloth.   
  
"Not much ya can do `sides sell near da lodgin' house for da next   
few days `til it goes away. Ya need at change cloths every hour or   
so, or da blood'll soak through. Ya don' want all of New York ta   
know Petite's a little lady now," Gip teased.   
  
"But…I sell in Brooklyn," Petite protested, still quite shaken over   
what had just happened.   
  
"Mix and I will tell Spot that, well, ya have ta sell somewhere else   
for a few days and unless he wants ta be given a lecture on female   
ways then he should just keep out of it," Slingshot said before   
grabbing Mix's wrist and leading the small Greek out the door and on   
their way.  
  
Stretch decided it best to leave, and a few others took their cue   
and headed out, either grabbing a ride to Brooklyn, Harlem, or   
simply walking to their selling spot in Manhattan. Looking up to see   
the orange hue of another sunrise about to begin, she knew it   
couldn't have been more than 6:00. Earlier than just about anyone,   
and definitely the newsboys of the city, she made her way to work.   
Oh, how lucky they were to live so close to the Distribution Office.   
But she had to remind herself, they were boys, and had more lodging   
houses scattered throughout New York than the girls. At least two   
lodging houses per borough were generously given by the government   
to aid the newsboys, whereas three borough's had to cram their   
newsgirls in one building. That was life, and seeing as newsgirls   
were both harder to come by and not as respectable, they were given   
the inconvenient spots to live in. They just had to keep reminding   
themselves: at least it was a place to sleep every night. 

~*~*~*~

Stretch


	2. New Kid

I THANKED ALL YOU ON THE NML!!! Unless some of you aren't on the NML…

~*~*~*~

The walk from the lodging house to the World Distribution Office was   
brutal. However, the girls could only be thankful that it wasn't   
winter, and to enjoy the months in which they weren't dying of cold,   
even if they were sweating like pigs by the middle of the day.   
Passing through the Five Points, keeping her head low, seeing as the   
criminals where still prowling before day break, Stretch had the   
strangest feeling she was being followed. Turning the corner,   
quickening her pace, her heart started beating a mile a minute and   
all she could think was Please don`t hurt me, please don`t touch me.   
Whoever you are, just go away, while whispering, "It's just your   
head, just keep walkin',". As she neared the block with the   
Distribution Center, she felt someone grab her and screamed.   
  
"Damn, someone's jumpy," came Pinch, while Relic and Sneaks laughed   
beside her. As Stretch took a minute to catch her breath, the three   
girls snicker about "you shoulda seen ya face" and "I thought you   
was gonna die on the spot."   
  
"Damn it, I could kill you three," Stretch screamed, before turning   
and continuing on her way. She couldn't blame them, it was one of   
the few ways someone in their state could keep their sense of humor.   
Its not like many things where funny. Their lifestyle certainly   
wasn't something to laugh about, though the social elite seemed to   
get a kick out of it. They were one step up from the thieves that   
stalked the alleys when the lights went out. They were the children   
whose souls were damned, because the only times they had ever   
heard "Jesus" or "God" spoken was when someone was swearing. No, she   
couldn't blame them for nearly giving her a heart attack. They had   
to laugh at something.   
  
Waiting for the gates to open, the gathering group of newsies   
checked their cheap watches, or the clocks settled high in front of   
the office buildings surrounding them. It wasn't long before the   
newsboys of Manhattan had joined them, showing off and joking   
brashly as boys their age often did, the younger ones laughing as   
they looked up at them in adoration. They were gentlemen by no   
means, unless yelling perverted jokes back and forth was a way to   
win someone's heart. They showed the occasional proof of moral   
fiber, smiling kindly to acquaintances and sticking loyally beside   
their friends in the worst of times, which in a newsie's life could   
get pretty damn bad. Yet, they weren't Casanovas, and this fact was   
confirmed as a few of them made crude gestures in front of the gate,   
yelling for them to open up already.   
  
"Heya, long legs. Been a while," came the familiar sound of Specs's   
voice, Stretch turning to face him.   
  
"Nice way ta get a goils attention, Specs. Real nice," Stretch said   
sarcastically, walking up the ramp to pay for her day's worth of   
papers. "Remind me, kid, why do I keep ya around?"  
  
"Because I'm-"  
  
"No you're not" she interrupted.  
  
"Well, I'm a-"  
  
"Not that either."  
  
"'Cause I'm one of the few people from SoHo who can speak English,   
for we are a rare breed, Stretch m'dear," he finally spitted out,   
surprised she didn't speak up once more.   
  
"That's it. Knew there was somethin'. So ya better be careful of   
what ya call me, four-eyes, `cause it ain't like you'se so special I   
can't live without ya,"   
  
"That hurts, Stretch, real bad. Almost as bad as the last dozen   
insults ya said ta me face."   
  
"Just wait `til ya hear the ones I've been sayin' behind ya back."   
she retorted, smiling sweetly back before rolling her eyes. It was   
well known Stretch had an attitude, almost as well known as it was   
that Specs has a big mouth.  
  
A newsie had to find something in common with the people around him,   
otherwise he would keep to himself, alienating those around him   
before they simply drifted into nothing. You were who your friends   
where, which also determined, in this life, where you worked. The   
different cities and boroughs had different personalities, and the   
children of Manhattan were said to be the loud, sarcastic bunch,   
just as Brooklyn was the tough group or Queens were the liars and   
cheats.   
  
The boys and girls conversed as they waited to reach the window to   
collect their papers, and bits of conversation of Bumlets's pregnant   
mother and Scorch's obsession with fire could be heard if one paid   
enough attention. Smiling as she heard Bumlets talk of his mother's   
health and how her belly was becoming the size of a watermelon,   
Stretch asked for her seventy-five papers, and headed back down the   
gate and off to Hudson Street, hoping to find better luck there than   
the Garment District from the week before.   
  
As she waited to see if Beauti or Sage were going to sell with her,   
hoping to have a little company, she caught sight of a young girl   
glancing past the iron gates and where some of the newsies where   
still waiting to get there "papes". Thinking it best to say "hello"   
than just standing there like a blockhead, she made her way over,   
introducing herself before asking the young girl her name in return.   
  
"Mary, Mary O'Leary. It's nice ta meet ya. Do ya…I mean…could I…"   
the young girl began, her blue eyes suddenly fascinated with her   
shoes.   
  
"Spit it out kid, I got woik ta do" Stretch said, as she spotted   
Beauti and Sage walking towards her.   
  
"I was wonderin' if I could have a job," Mary finished, surprised by   
the older girl's brash words.   
  
"Sure, ya got money?" she asked, Mary holding out two quarters for   
Stretch to see.   
  
"Ya might just wanna say "yes" next time. Hold out money like that   
and some people's likely ta take it. Now since its ya foist day,   
just use one of them quarters. I know ya can sell the papes back,   
but it's always a hassle and it is your foist time doin' this. Now,   
the man the works the counter is Mr. Weisel, but it's a runnin' joke   
ta call him "Weasel", `specially since the strike. Now, he's `sposed   
ta give ya 50 papes for a quarter, so make sure ta count them. If ya   
can't count, then have someone do it for ya. Do it right there, near   
the window, so ya have proof ya ain't lyin'. Then come back here ta   
me and ya can sell with me and me friends, seein' as we can show ya   
the ropes. Ok?" Stretch said, speaking slower than usual to make   
sure Mary got every bit of what she said. As the younger one headed   
through the gates and up the ramp, Stretch greeted her selling   
partners with a smile.   
  
"Looks like we gotta new one, goils. Wanna help me show her the hell   
of woikin'?" Stretch asked, nodding toward Mary. As Beauti and Sage   
stated their approval, the three waited near the gate, knowing full   
well this Mary was going to remember her first day for the rest of   
her life. 

~*~*~*~

I hope you liked it! If not…don't kill me…its getting there.   



	3. Loyalty

Been a while, sorry its taken me this long to update, Maybe Ill get more inspiration in the coming days. Here's hoping. 

~*~*~*~*~

Attempting to shield herself as the carriage splashed water on her  
from the muddy street, Mary looked at the newly ruined newspaper in  
her grasp, mud spackled on the back.  
  
"Great, that's all I need, a ruined pape," she said, shaking it off  
and looking solemnly back at the carriage.  
  
"It ain't ruined," Beauti replied, before calling out another  
headline. As she nodded to Stretch and Sage, Stretch took the  
spotted paper, folded it so potential customers could only see the  
clean side, and shouted headlines.  
  
"Won't whoever she's giving that know it's ruined?" Mary questioned,  
leaning towards Sage and Beauti cautiously, not wanting anyone to  
hear her.  
  
"Yeah, but we won't be here," Sage said.  
  
"What do you-," Mary started, but just then Stretch had accepted  
payment for the marred newspaper, and began to quickly walk towards  
the others…until the man had realized he had paid for flawed  
merchandise.  
  
"Hey!" he yelled, the four girls taking that as their cue to book  
it.  
  
"Samson's!" Beauti screamed, Mary simply following the other three,  
praying they knew what they were doing. As they turned corners, ran  
down an alley, and slipped into the door of a shabby looking general  
store, Mary barely took the time to notice what had happened, or  
even where she was.  
  
"In trouble again?" came an elderly man's voice, causing Mary to  
almost have a heart attack.  
  
"Yeah, just some man outside. Nothin' we can't handle," Sage said,  
as she began looking around the small shop.  
  
"Oh, Mary, this is Mr. Samson, a friend of ours," Stretch introduced  
the two, allowing them a brief polite gesture of welcoming before  
they began conversation once more.  
  
"And if by `friend' they mean someone who gets them out of trouble  
when they need it, then yes, I guess I am," the man said, his eyes  
showing nothing but kindness and welcoming as the girls looked  
around.  
  
"This is why we sell in Soho…or one of the reasons," Beauti  
whispered to Mary, motioning towards the elderly man, who was now  
glancing outside.  
  
"The friendly, neighborhood shopkeeper?" Mary asked.  
  
"No," Stretch started, trying hard not to laugh too hard at Mary's  
comment, "people we know, places we are used to. Ya kinda need  
somethin' like that if you're gonna be a newsie. Ya need people that  
can watch out for ya, otherwise ya ain't got nothing'."  
  
Mary kept playing that thought over and over in her head, through  
lunch, during which she was too nauseas to eat anything, and on  
through the afternoon. Its not like she had to think about the  
headlines much, seeing as the afternoon edition had provided them  
with a nice murder article, so they could rest easy…until tomorrow  
that is.  
  
As the suggestive gestures from business men subsided, the girls  
took their leave, some heading straight for the lodging house,  
others heading back to the Distribution Center to sell back the  
unsold copies. As the girls regrouped along the way back to the  
lodging house, trudging, and sometimes hitching a ride for a few  
miles, from their respected spots to their living quarters on Gold  
Street.  
  
Entering, boards creaking, wind occasionally blowing through cracks  
in the walls and windows, Mary looked around, trying to have an  
accepting eye and open mind.  
  
"Home sweet home," Sage said, signing in, passing by Mrs. Donovan,  
climbing the stairs, and kicking the bunkroom door open.  
  
"Jaysus Sage, give me a heart attack would ya?" Gambler yelled,  
throwing a dirty sock towards the tall newsgirl, her Irish accent  
flaring.  
  
"Thought I'd do ya a favor by puttin' ya outta your misery," Sage  
snapped back, sitting on her own bunk, lighting a cheap cigar from  
the nearby general store.  
  
"There should be a open bunk somewhere…ya just gotta find it,"  
Beauti whipered to Mary, pointing to some that proved to be viable  
options.  
  
"What do you do for supper around here?" Mary asked, trying to be  
polite, her innocence grasping tightly for fear of being lost  
forever at the sight of such corruption.  
  
"Do ya have any money?" Firefly said curtly, her blue eyes focused  
on the new lodger.  
  
"Um, yes, a little," she said.  
  
"Then go out and get some damn food. Simple as that. It ain't brain  
work, kid," Jade, another newsgirl randomly spoke.  
  
Mary shied away, looking to put anything she may be carrying beside  
a bunk to claim it as her own.  
  
"Look, kid, it ain't hard ta figure out how ta live around here, ya  
just gotta, ya know, get used ta it," Petite said, smiling weakly  
before going about her business.  
  
"And ya never get used to it," Firefly chimed in, searching through  
her belongings for something to do.  
  
"Don't listen ta her, bad sellin' day," Snaps whispered, before  
sitting down on the bunk beside Mary. "Names, Snaps, or Roxanne, but  
most people call me Snaps. You?"  
  
"Mary, pleasure to meet you."  
  
"I can assure you it's no pleasure at all. Just wait until I live up  
ta my name and start snappin' my knuckles. You'll right hate me  
then," Snaps joked.  
  
The new girl eased slightly, relieved to met at least one other  
person who didn't seem hostile, ready to attack at the very sight of  
her. "What do you all do to pass the time around here?"  
  
"I dunno, though Im pretty sure ya have a good idea of what we might  
do. Innocent-like kids like you seem ta think all sorts of things  
about our type."  
  
"Um…smoke, drink, gamble…"  
  
"Pick fights…," Firefly interrupted  
  
"Go to opium dens…," Jade added  
  
The girls around them started chiming in, jokingly putting in their  
two cent's worth into the private conversation.  
  
"Ah, shut up and mind ya own business," Snaps snapped back before  
turning towards Mary once more. "There are some of us that gamble,  
but that's just a hobby, just like any other. It ain't like all we  
do is sit around with a deck of cards. Kids that go ta school like  
ta say things like that, though. Kids like ta spread their stories  
about what they heard someone say to someone else about how we live.  
If we're caught smoking' in here its clean-up duty for a week, but  
no one takes that one seriously. Same thing for drinkin', but we  
take that one a little more ta heart, seein' as it's more of a pet  
peeve ta Mrs. Donovan and she catches ya she'll back hand ya. Long  
story, and I ain't one for telling' stories."  
  
"So, what do you do?"  
  
"What did ya do at home? Whatever ya did at home ya are free ta do  
here, simple as that. Ya might pick up a few hobbies….I like gin  
rummy, but nothing too harmful."  
  
As more girls filed in, collapsing on nearby bunks, some stopping to  
say hello while others simply passed by, Mary watched them, spying  
their habits, yet quickly looking away before anyone caught on to  
what she was doing.  
  
A pattern started to develop, groups forming, pairs teaming up. The  
second someone entered, she was greeted by one or two from her own  
little troop. It was as if everyone was assigned a place to go, or  
people to be with. However, Mary didn't know all that much about it,  
and shrugged it off as coincidence, or just pure habit, before  
looking for something small to eat that would hold her for the  
night.  
  
The sun began to set, purple hues started to blanket the city.  
Slowly, the only lights to be seen where the street lamps below and  
the distant glow of the moon and stars. Exhausted from the days  
work, many of the lodgers had retired early, heavy breathing could  
be heard from all sides of the room. Spying Mary, hoping to say a  
few words of, well, enlightenment perhaps, Ebony sauntered over to  
the newly occupied bunk to introduce herself.  
  
"Names Ebony, give ya three guesses why," she began, Mary eyes  
immediately landing on her jet black hair. Smiling, Ebony simply  
went on, "How was you're first day. Hope it wasn't too much for ya.  
It can be a bit hard, `specially if you're new."  
  
"It was alright," Mary shrugged. Trying to prevent herself from  
complaining. She knew this girl wanted nothing to do with her  
problems, she had her own to deal with.  
  
"Liar," Ebony teased. "Its alright, the first day is always, well,  
tough. Come ta think of it, they all are. But you get used to it.  
Everyone does."  
  
"Not everyone," Vigor shouted, passing by from the bathroom.  
  
"Don't listen. Ya made it ta the lodging house. Most of the people  
that don't last never even make it this far. So, don't listen ta  
them. They won't be happy until you either leave or last a week.  
They gotta be like this. Can't get attached to a person that's just  
gonna leave ya, right?" Ebony said, looking around at her lodging  
mates, several of them playing a game of go fish or gin rummy, those  
who could were reading, and others were simply preparing for an  
early night. The distant sobs of a smaller newsgirl could be heard  
from across the room, whispers of comfort from those near here doing  
little. "Petite most likely. Hasn't been her day."  
  
"Does she always cry?" Mary asked, looking over to see if she could  
spot the small child.  
  
"No, not always. But someone always does. Like sellin', ya get used  
to it. After a while ya don't notice it much unless it's right  
beside ya. Look, it does get better, Ya just gotta stick around that  
long ta find out, that's all. After a while, you'll find a group ta  
sell with permanent. Even if ya sell alone, ya want someone ta be  
near ya, watch your back. See there? Sage and Hope, practically  
sisters. Stretch and Beauti are sisters. They don't look a damn  
thing alike, but don't bring that up. Gip there and Firecracker, we  
call her FC, well, they'se known each other for years. See? Everyone  
has someone. Ya have to. Ya don't, ya got nothing. Ya see, the girls  
here that ain't got no family, well, they trade their loyalties-  
like. Ya know? Friends become family. That sort of thing. Its all  
part of bein' a newsie. Loyalty is everything. Stickin' tagether is  
life and death sometimes. Remember that," Ebony said, before saying  
goodnight and getting ready for bed herself.  
  
Leaning back, the cold wood of the headboard pushing into her back,  
Mary thought about what Ebony, and earlier Stretch, had said. They  
seemed obsessed with loyalty and bond, but when its all you have, I  
guess you have a right to be. Turning over, closing her eyes, Mary  
fell asleep to the sounds of Petites distant sobs, as Scorch shouted  
rummy.  


~*~*~*~*~

Hope you liked it, and if you didn't then oh well. Maybe when I decide to update Ill impress you then? No? Oh well, bugger off. 

Stretch


End file.
